


You're Spiderman?

by QuothTheRaven_Nevermore



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 23:43:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11565831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuothTheRaven_Nevermore/pseuds/QuothTheRaven_Nevermore
Summary: Y/n finds out Peter is Spiderman and is not happy about it.





	You're Spiderman?

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo like I know in the movie everyone is 15 but that makes me kinda uncomfortable so I image them being 18+ but whatever floats your boat.  
> I wrote this on a 7 hour car ride while very tired so I'm sorry for any typos or grammar errors.

 

  
The sound of a lock clicking makes you stop in the middle of your sentence, your head snapping back from the small coffee table and the loaf of bread on top toward the now-closed bedroom door.

  
“Peter?” May asks, “Is that you?”

  
“Yeah, it's me aunt may!” Peter answers from behind the door.

  
“I don't know how you manage to sneak in here everyday,” May says, standing up and brushing stray crumbs off of her lap. “It's like you're a ghost.”

  
Peter chuckles, the sound faint through the wood.

  
“Anyway, sneaky boy, your friend is here.”

  
“What?” comes Peter’s startled voice.

  
“She's been here a while now, just waiting. What were you doing anyway?”

  
“Uh-Ned and I...we had a...thing,” Peter answers.

  
Aunt May rolls her eyes affectionately at his weak answer. “You boys sand your ‘thing’ better not get you arrested.”

  
“It won't!” Peter answers.

  
“Go on in, honey,” May tells you as she walks into the small kitchen.

  
“Peter,” you say as you make your way toward his room. “I'm coming in.”

  
“No!” He practically shouts. “Don't come in!”

  
You furrow your brows. There has only been a handful of times when Peter didn't allow you into his room. During most of those times he was naked, and in the rest Ned was the naked one.

"Peter, is something wrong?” You ask

  
“It's fine!” He says opening the door just a crack, an odd note in his voice.

  
You can only see one eye and part of his foot.

  
“Sorry. But nows not a good time. Can we do this tomorrow?” As he turns you see the other side of his face and gasp.  
His eye is bruised enough to make you wince.

  
“Peter,” you say in concern as you push your way in. “What happened?”

  
Peter sits on the edge of his bed looking downtrodden. “I got into a fight.”

  
“With who?” You ask gently putting a hand on his face. “Mike Tyson?”

  
Peter chuckles, inhaling sharply as the movement disagrees with the bruises on his face.

  
“Jesus Peter,” you say, noting the various bruises and split skin on his knuckles.

“Who gave you that black eye?”

  
“Just this guy Steve from Brooklyn.”

  
“I’ll kick his ass if you want me to,” you say, remembering how kids used to pick on Peter for being nerdy. And how many times you got in trouble for fighting on his behalf.

  
Peter smiles weakly. “It's fine.”

  
“No,” you say, your blood starting to boil. “It's not.”

  
“Really,” Peter says placing a warm hand on your arm. “It's okay. You should see the other guy.”

  
“You get him good?” You ask.

  
Peter shakes his head. “No actually. He might even be better than before. His confidence is probably through the roof.”

  
You laugh at his stupid joke but it fades when you see his face again. It probably hurts like hell. “Can I do anything?”

  
Peter lies down in his bed and turns on the tv. He drapes a blanket over himself and holds it up. “Watch a movie with me?”

  
“And how will that help exactly?”

  
Peter pouts. “Help promote healing by the use of positive vibes from my best friend?”

  
“Ned?”

  
Peter rolls his eyes. “My other best friend.”

  
You snort but lie down with him. He finds the chessiest horror movie on Netflix and presses play.

  
You give him a look. Peter knows you absolutely loathe horror movies. Even the bad ones make you jump.

  
“What?” He says too casually. “I'll be here to protect you from any monsters.”

  
“Maybe I should call Steve from Brooklyn,” you grumble as Peter’s arms tighten around you when a scene makes you both jump.

  
He flicks your nose gently and you stick your tongue out before turning back to the movie.

 

“That many pieces?” You ask incredulously as you talk to Ned on the phone. You're walking through Peter’s apartment complex. You were supposed to meet him in a few minutes to study for your science and Spanish tests. You're absolutely rotten at science but Spanish seems to come almost naturally. Peter is like a science book on legs but cannot remember Spanish to save his life.

  
“Yeah dude!” Ned answers enthusiastically. “I'm going over tomorrow to build it. Want to come?”

  
“‘Maybe to eat chips,” you laugh. “I doubt I can be much help.”

  
“The more the merrier,” Ned says.

  
“See you tomorrow,” you laugh.

  
“Bye!”

  
You knock and May opens the door a second later.

  
“Come on in!” She greets. “Peter will be here in a sec.”

  
Smiling you walk toward Peter's room. 

  
“Do you want anything?” May asks. “Water?"

  
“No thank you,” you call as you sit on the edge of Peter's bed.

  
You wait for Peter for almost an hour. Waiting...waiting...waiting.

  
“Honey?” May says gently when she sees you sitting on Peter's bed, looking dejected and bored out of your mind.

"Do you want to go home? I can tell Peter you stopped by.”

  
“I can wait one more minute,” you say, holding out hope that he'll show up. You were supposed to study. This is the third time this week he's cancelled.

  
You're on your phone about to leave when you hear the window open. Turning your head you watch it open. Someone, or something, red crawls through.

You watch in stunned silence and Spiderman, _the_ Spiderman, crawls along the ceiling and closes the door.

Quietly as he entered, Spiderman drops down and removes his mask. Your heart is in your throat as he turns around. You nearly have a heart attack when he turns and you see that it's Peter.

  
His eyes widen as you bolt up and say, “Peter?! What the fuck!?”

  
“Shhhh!” He says holding putting one hand to his lips. “I can explain!”

  
You're too stunned to speak as he pokes his head into the hall and makes sure his aunt didn't hear you.

  
He lets out a small sigh of relief and leans against the door.

  
You make a noise that's something between a shout of surprise and a hysterical laugh.

  
Peter looks back up and says, “Don't freak out.”

  
“Don't freak out?” You ask, your voice rising. “You crawl in here, the fucking _Spiderman_ , and I'm not supposed to freak out?”

  
“No?” Peter answers hopefully.

  
“You're fucking Spiderman?” You ask again, not believing what you're seeing.

  
“No,” Peter says. “I am not fucking spiderman. I am fucking no one actually.”

  
You see red as you stand up, not sure what you'll do.

  
“Okay, okay, okay,” Peter says noting that you look about ready to slap him. “I am Spiderman.”

  
Peter is spiderman. Who helped fight the Avengers.

  
“Wait,” you say. “Steve from Brooklyn? Are you telling me that Steve from  
Brooklyn is Steve _Rogers_ from Brooklyn? Captain America?”

  
M-maybe,” Peter says.

  
Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. “You fought Captain America?!”

  
Yeah,” Peter answers. He pushes a button and takes off the suit. You notice the various cuts and bruises on his skin. Peter is Spiderman. Spiderman who fought Captain America. Spiderman who nearly died last night in an attempt to stop a bank robbery…

  
As Peter changes you sit back on his bed. Peter almost died last night. Your best friend almost died.

  
When Peter turns back around, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a corny shirt you bought him the full weight of who he is hits you.

  
“You almost died,” you whisper. “Last night. You almost died.”

  
Peter crouches down in front of you. He reaches for you hand but you rip it away like you've been burned. You don't miss the hurt in his eyes but you don't care.

  
“I'm fine,” he answers. “Just a couple of bruises.”

  
“A couple of bruises?” You breathe.

“Peter you almost fucking _died_.”

  
“But I didn't.”

  
“That's not good enough,” you say standing up. “You almost died! Because you're out there swinging and fighting and risking your life for what? A stolen bike? Money that would have been paid back anyway? Why do you bother?”

  
“Because I have to!” Peter answers back. “When you can do the things I can, stop these crimes. I have to. I can't just stand there. When I can stop crime or help prevent it, what kind of person would I be if I didn't? After my uncle--” Peter pauses. “I would spend entire nights awake, thinking of every thing I could have done to prevent it. Now that I can, I can't just sit here every night pretending to care about Spanish when I know that I could be out there preventing that from happening to someone else.”

  
“But you're a teenager,” you say, fear for your friend creeping into every part of your heart. “You're supposed to be studying for Spanish quizzes and building lego replicas with Ned, not out there risking your life every night. Peter, you're my best friend and if anything ever happened to you. I would go out of my damn mind, so would your Aunt May.”

  
Peter steps closer to you. You let him take your hand when he reaches for it this time.

  
“Hey,” he says quietly, turning your face to look at him. “I'll be fine.”

  
“You don't know that,” you say, your lip trembling. “You can't know that. You say you want to prevent what happened to your uncle from happening to anyone else, but if something ever happened to you…If anything happened to my best friend…”

  
“I know,” Peter says, putting his arms around you tightly. He lets you rest your head on his shoulder. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I worry about the same thing. If anything happened to you because of who I am, I would never forgive myself, but please, don't worry.”

  
“Of course I'm going to worry!” You say, smacking his arm gently. “I don't think I'll ever stop.”

  
Peter smiles. “Are you still mad?”

  
“Yes,” you answer. Peter's face falls slightly. “But, I understand. And as much as it scares me out of my skin, your secret is safe with me.”

  
“Thank you,” Peter smiles, hugging you again. 

  
“But,” you say, making him stiffen. “You have to introduce me to Captain America. I've got some words to say to him for that black eye of yours.”

  
Peter laughs, relaxing again. “He's shaking in his shield.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yooo I hope you liked it. Comment, heart all that. You can find me at murdocksandnelson on Tumblr (I'm on mobile so idk if I can/how to link, sorry).


End file.
